The Sun Will Rise
by Hopefully Riveting
Summary: Marius has fallen in love with Cosette, leaving Eponine in ruins until she comes to know, and begins to understand the patriotic Enjorlas. While Enjorlas continues to preach about the coming revolution, he finds that France is his Maiden, yet finds himself constantly crossing Eponine's path. Obviously I don't own Les Misérables.
1. Chapter 1

**Samantha Barks will be my model for Eponine and Aaron Tveit will be my model for Enjolras because they're both perfect and Aaron has nice arms :)**

**Review!  
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"Even the Darkest Night Will End and the Sun Will Rise"

Victor Hugo, _Les Miserables_

Chapter One

Eponine's eyes searched through the crowd of young men of the Les Amis de l'ABC meeting as she stood at the doorway. Her skinny hand gripped the doorknob as she looked with concentration to find the star of her many daydreams. She could not locate him and assumed he was near the leader of this band of rebels as he normally is, being extremely passionate about the cause and liked to admire the passionate and strong-willed Enjolras up close. In her head, she debated whether or not to enter the Café to find him, or to stand outside, waiting as she normally does. However, the coldness on her skin had somehow managed to reach her bones and wiled her to go inside the Café, and as she did, her frail body gratefully embraced the warmth of the room.

She kept her head down and her body hunched as she ghosted her way through the men she so often saw but never really acquainted herself with. Her eyes brightened and filled with delight as they fell upon the handsome Marius she had pined after for so long. Her feet started to quicken as she began to make haste across the room, leaving behind her ghostly aura. Suddenly, she was stopped in her tracks by surprise and fear as a strong, uncoordinated arm was thrown around her waist, pulling her closer to the drunken man that she recognized by the name of Grantaire. She knew that he was ultimately harmless because he always seemed to be the joke of the group and yet she could not settle the fear that had sparked deep within her gut. That was the effect of living with the Thénardiers, she supposed. One begins to lose trust in not only those around them, but also in humanity. The same had not become of Marius, she trusted him, as much as her upbringing allowed her to, she felt as though she trusted him with her heart and soul. Well, perhaps not her heart, but she knew he meant her no ill will, that he had not an inkling of a thought to intentionally hurt her or cause her distress. And yet, he was doing exactly so.

Her body tensed because of the man's arm around her, but he took no notice to it. He seemed too drunk to pick up on her reaction.

"Quit your brooding and stop moping about Marius, look here! Your pleas and prayers have been answered, for your beloved has appeared," he announced condescendingly to the room.

Marius's eyes looked up longingly, but as they rested on Eponine, the longing disappeared and was replaced by excitement and impatience. He jumped out of his chair and ran to meet her, taking hold of her hands in his own, and looked deep into her eyes, searching for answers about what she had found out about his true beloved.

He looked at Grantaire saying, "Ah, you are mistaken, my friend, this is not my beloved, but my faithful friend, Eponine, here to deliver news about my dear, Cosette." He looked back at Eponine with overwhelming excitement and anxiety that she knew she would never be the cause of.

Grantaire smirked and looked at Eponine letting his eyes trace her thin, yet strangely alluring figure, "She still is lovely, though. Perhaps a lovely lady?" he joked, "mind if I have a go at her?"

"Scamper off, Grantaire," said a man starting to push the drunk away, "Courfeyrac, by the way, pleased to meet you Mademoiselle..?" he waited for her to introduce herself.

"Eponine," she said quietly, avoiding her last name as she curtsied, still looking at the floor.

"Oh, come on Courf, let me have some fun," Grantaire slurred. Coufeyrac looked at Eponine apologetically as Marius rolled his eyes impatiently, getting annoyed with the banter his friends were having with Eponine, preventing him from finding out about Cosette.

"No!" Courfeyrac laughed lightly, trying to make it clear that Grantaire was only kidding- somewhat, "I will not have you traumatize the girl with your poor excuse for manhood!" he jested.

Marius started pulling Eponine slowly away, "Come, Eponine," he commanded as if he was talking to a dog, "I must know about Cosette." Every time he said Cosette's name his eyes lit with a fiery passion Eponine had never seen before. This passion felt almost like a dagger in her every time she saw it, knowing she was not the one who caused such a look.

"I can no longer wait for the news! Come Eponine!" he repeated less patiently, completely pulling her away from the crowd to a vacant corner of the Café. "Do you have the letter?" he asked almost breathlessly.

A smirk fell upon her face as she arched one eyebrow, "I cannot be sure," she said as she playfully pulled the letter from her pocket. He went for it, but she pulled it away just in time. "And what do I get from this arrangement? You get a letter and I get nothing? That hardly seems fair." He reached for his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Her face fell, "No, I don't want your money, Monsieur."

"Then you will get to see your loyal friend be in complete and utter joy! Please Eponine." He took her hands and looked deep into her eyes, silently begging her. A blush fell upon her cheeks as she slowly, savoring the moment, handed him the letter. He took it quickly, glancing back at her gratefully as he ripped it open with giddy hands. She stared at him with despair hanging in her burden-filled features.

"She loves me," he whispered quickly, "She loves me!" he repeated much louder this time and turned to face Eponine, looking happier than she had ever seen him. She put on her best faux smile and willed herself not to cry.

"How could she not, Monsieur?" she heard herself say. The words sounded hollow and her voice sounded hurt, and yet Marius did not seem to notice, or he simply did not care, for he ignored her completely.

"I must write her back!" he said starting to stride away into another room, but glanced back at Eponine saying, "Don't stray too far, 'Ponine! I am going to need you to deliver my letter as soon as I'm finished writing it!"

"_Don't cry, Eponine," _she thought, _"not until you get outside."_

Eponine quickly went out the door. Once she was outside in the cold, she fell to her knees and leaned against the wall as tears poured down her gaunt face. Restrained sobs threatened to turn into wails of pain and heartbreak. She ran her hands through her tangled dark mess of hair as rain started to fall. Most people would take it as a sign that God and his angels were crying for her, but Eponine knew better, it was as if God was mocking her, showing her with His sky just how pathetic she looked, and was.

Rain mixed with tears and soon, she couldn't even tell if she had stopped crying. She was shaking violently and her fingertips had a tint of blue in them. Eponine knew that she had to get inside soon to avoid frostbite, but her legs refused to move. It seemed that her entire body was slowly giving up.

"'Ponine?" she heard a light, childlike voice say behind her. She conjured up her best smile as she turned around.

"Gavroche!" she exclaimed as her failed attempt at a fake smile was replaced by a slight real one. Her eyes looked upon her baby brother.

"What are you doing out here on your own?" he asked, concerned for his sister's wellbeing.

_On your own_. Those words hit her like a thousand bullets to the chest. _"That's all I'll ever be,"_ she thought to herself.

"Waiting for Monsieur Marius," she said.

"It's freezing out, 'Ponine, come inside," he said putting out his little hand for her to take. When he saw her hesitate, he asked with wide-eyed expression filling with concern, "Is it because you don't know anyone? Don't worry they're my friends! I can introduce you!" A smile lit up his face as his eyes widened and his chest puffed out a bit with pride. At that moment, Eponine knew there was no way she could turn him down.

Though Gavroche was a street urchin, he was far from ignorant. He knew his sister sitting out in the rain had nothing to do with not knowing anyone, but with another heartbreak from Monsieur Marius. He needed to get her inside, and she was always more willing the more innocent he acted.

She smiled a heartbreaking excuse for a smile and took his hand. "Okay, but no leaving me, yeah? I don't want your drunken… friend," she grimaced at the last word, "being unleashed on me while I have no protector." She looked lovingly at her brother. That is what he always was, and tried to be with her, and vice versa. They were each other's protectors.


	2. Chapter 2

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Chapter Two

"We're late," Gavroche whispered as he quickly and quietly pulled his sister to a vacant table in the back of the room. Right as they sat down, Gavroche's full, undivided attention was captured by the man speaking. His strong voice boomed throughout the room. It seemed that all the men were holding their breath as he spoke, only releasing it when they murmured in approval and agreement. Even Eponine herself, who believed the schoolboys to be nothing but rich bourgeois brats with their heads in the clouds, could not help but become entangled in his words.

She had seen the leader before, heard his speeches, and yet had never fully paid attention to them because she was always too enchanted by Marius's presence. Now, without Marius there, Eponine seemed to throw herself completely into Enjolras' speech, momentarily forgetting Marius.

From what she could gather from the stories and descriptions she had heard from both Marius and Gavroche, this man hardly showed any emotions, the Marble Man was one of the names she had heard his friends refer to him as. But now, listening to his speech, she could not seem to believe that. She had never seen someone as passionate and entranced by something before. This obsession of his with Patria had far surpassed Marius's with Costte, and even her own with Marius. Though, unlike every other man there, she did not get rallied by him. She did not feel the need to act by his words. She pitied him knowing that this dream of his will only bring him to his untimely demise.

"_It's a shame,"_ she thought, _"It's a waste. All of these men have so much to live for. They have so much to become, and yet they are throwing their lives away on a silly idealistic dream."_

She studied the leader. She studied his broad jaw clenched with the desire of having a world with a free Patria. She studied his wide and passionate blue eyes. She studied him as he ran his long fingers through his golden curls, clenching them as he paused for just a moment, to gather the ideas and inspiration whizzing through his head only to bless the people listening with a perfectly worded and moving statement that made your blood rush with his.

This man was obviously intelligent and mature well beyond his years, and yet Eponine could not wrap her head around his blatant ignorance. He was simply refusing to even think for a moment that their revolution might not work. Would not work.

Was he that unaware? Did he not know? Surely he must. He had to know that the people he fought for, France's people were cowards. Any person who experienced the slums would realize that.

"_But of course he never went there," _Eponine thought almost mockingly, _"Of course the bourgeois brat never ventured to the slums."_

Suddenly, everything he said, no matter how beautiful, had lost its grasp on her.

"It is up to us to rally the people!" He yelled clenching his fists, "It is up to us to unchain the poor people of France from the bent shackles of the law and society!"

She heard him preach and before she could contain herself, she scoffed. The men listening, trembling with excitement, were shaken out of their trance and turned to look at her. She quickly started coughing as an attempt to disguise the scoff as the sickness that the poor just seemed to be born with. Accepting that it was just sickness, the men turned back around to face Enjolras once again. She looked up to see the leader looking at her, his eyes boring into her own with a questioning, and to her dismay, slightly offended look. She shrank down into her chair.

Enjolras' speeches were normally captivating and riveting, but tonight seemed to be his finest work. The words he spoke simply flowed out of him as if he had rehearsed them a hundred times. Looking at the men's eyes almost basking in his presence and his words, he felt pride well up in him, as his love for his country filled him to the brink. In the midst of his speech, his sweeping eyes landed on a thin, hunched figure being pulled by the _gamin_, Gavroche, who always attended their meetings. He recognized the girl as Marius's "shadow", which was what the other men referred to her as.

She had always been a puzzle to him. He never understood why she did the bidding of a man who not only would never reciprocate her obvious feelings for him, but also never treated her with the respect she deserved for her deeds she has done for him. Yes, Marius treated her better than what would be considered the socially acceptable way to treat someone of her class. Though, it was not nearly close to the amount of respect one would have in the Republic he was trying to build, but also the way one would treat a friend as close as they claim to be. She obviously cared for Marius deeply, perhaps she even loved him, and it was clear that he hurt her every time he talked about Cosette and sent her on errands to deliver the messages between the two so they could properly proclaim their love and admiration for each other. Marius was completely blind to all of her unconcealed feelings towards him, being as daft as he has been acting recently.

The two's "relationship" had always irritated Enjolras. The girl putting herself through torture for a man who loves another, helps him find his "love", and Marius allows Eponine to continue hurting herself without a bat of an eye. It astounded him. It irritated him because of his complete lack of understanding of it. And Enjolras was not one to be confused easily. He had always prided himself on his ability to grasp concepts of almost everything. Whether it be a subject, a person, or a piece of literature, he could immediately understand it and form his own opinions of it. But now, continuing his unimpaired speech, he found himself constantly glancing at the malnourished girl in between compelling sentences. He would look at the girl, desperately trying to understand this aggravatingly difficult subject and yet was at a loss. He was attempting to study her as you would an unopened textbook and he saw that she was doing the exact same to him. She was not only closely listening to his words and analyzing them, but also studying his actions.

"It is up to us to rally the people! It is up to us to unchain the poor people of France from the bent shackles of the law and society!" he proclaimed getting excited murmurs in response and shifts of his men readying themselves to cheer as he approached the end of his speech. And from the corner of the room, he heard a distinct scoff make its way through the whispers. All eyes fell on the _gamine _who produced the noise as she blushed and quickly started a very believable coughing fit to cover it. Once all the men seemed to be fooled she stopped, but Enjolras would not shift his gaze from her. He had keen senses, more so than the other men, and could tell through her thoroughly convincing performance that she had indeed scoffed at his speech. His words that were meant to ignite and free people like her. He could not comprehend the cause of this patronizing noise and he felt a bit offended. Would she rather have him stand idly by letting the people of France suffer? She must have her reasons and he was eager to convince a skeptic to believe in his cause. He has finished his speech and an explosive applause and yells followed. He sat down and looked at the _gamine _from behind his books.

Eponine followed her brother into the middle of the group of chattering men that had begun to form. She and her brother were approached by the man she had met earlier that day.

Courfeyrac ruffled Gavroche's hair affectionately saying, "Gavroche! You never told me you were acquainted with this beautiful Mademoiselle," he did a polite bow at Eponine, "nice to see you again Mademoiselle Eponine."

She blushed at the title and shifted uncomfortably. She was not used to being addressed in such a way. "The pleasure is all mine, Monsieur Courfeyrac," she answered curtseying.

"Tell me, Gavroche! How did you charm your way into getting this one to accompany you to the meeting?" Courfeyrac asked with a smile dancing on his face.

"Gross, she's my sister!" Gavroche informed Courfeyrac while playfully swatting his hand away.

"Sister!" Courfeyrac exclaimed looking up at Eponine, "Well this is a pleasant surprise! It is very comforting to know Gavroche has someone looking out for him when we aren't there."

Eponine affectionately ruffled Gavroche's hair. "I do what I can," she answered modestly.

Upon hearing the relation between Marius's shadow and the loveable young revolutionary that had squirmed his way into all of the men's hearts, the members of the Les Amis de l'ABC started making their way over to introduce themselves. Eponine had never in her life been treated as kindly and respectfully as these men treated her. She finally realized why Gavroche looked up to them so much.

"Joly," said one of the men introducing himself to her, "It's a pleasure to meet you Mademoiselle Eponine and if you'd like I can check out that cough you have. I noticed it during Enjolras's speech." He did not say it as an accusation but as a kind offer.

"Thank you Monsieur, but I am from the streets. I have survived through far more than a silly little cough." She smiled at him, "And if you please, just Eponine, I am no lady." She repeated for what seemed like the fiftieth time whenever someone called her Mademoiselle.

"Everyone is a lady in the eyes of the Republic _Mademoiselle_," she heard a voice say behind her. She turned around to find the leader of the group addressing her.

"A Republic that has yet to be installed in the government, therefore there are no eyes to see me as a lady _Monsieur_," she responded cleverly.

He smirked at her. He enjoyed her fire, something that is rarely seen in a woman at the time.

"In due time, Mademoiselle, in due time. I am Enjolras," he stated taking her hand and planting a light kiss on it.

She did not blush, "Eponine, and I hope what you say is true Monsieur, I truly do," she responded with her large dark eyes showing trace of pity in them. He was taken a bit off guard and was going to respond to her odd statement, but Bahorel was already introducing himself to her. He sighed and decided that they would continue this conversation at a later date as he slowly moved back to his chair, lifting up his book once again.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Eponine watched Enjolras make his way through his men, many of them patting him on the shoulder and he returned it with a slight smile, pondering about their quick, yet very insightful conversation she had shared with him. She felt every word shared with him was uncovering something about this angelic figure that had always puzzled her. She quickly brushed her thoughts away as she continued to talk to Combeferre, laughing at his jokes.

"'Ponine!" Marius said, pushing his way past Combeferre.

Eponine jumped, tearing her gaze away from the man who was mid-sentence to meet Marius'. Marius seemed to be virtually unaware of Combeferre's presence as ignored the annoyed look he was getting. "Yes? What can I do for you, Monsieur?" Eponine answered, throwing Combeferre an apology gaze as he walked away, though her heart seemed to speed up at the sight of Marius.

"I've finished the letter and I would like you to read it over before you take it to Cosette," he stated as if it wasn't even a question that she may not be able to take the letter.

Her heart sank, "Of course," she said. She took the letter from his hand, being careful to brush her hand against his during the act. She read it over, physically having to control every ounce of her being to keep from showing her grief. "It's perfect," she said after she had finished reading it.

"You think so?" he asked.

"You seem to be a natural writer, for this letter could make any woman fall in love with you," she answered looking into his puppy dog eyes.

He smiled widely, "Perfect! Well, off you go then!" he said playfully shooing Eponine towards the door, taking her hand and gently pulling her to face him right before she left, "I really could not have asked for a better friend 'Ponine. You're a Godsend." He pulled her into a quick embrace before turning back into the Café.

Seeing the happiness in his features along with his parting statement reminded Eponine why she had decided to bring Marius and Cosette together in the first place. She longed to make the man who had always acted as a temporary escape from her frightening and morbid life happy. She knew she made him happy even without introducing him to Cosette. She knew the playful and teasing banter they constantly exchanged not only meant the world to her, but also meant much to Marius as well. It was not enough though. She knew it would not be enough, and she longed to be part of Marius' happiness. If that meant she would put herself through pain to be the reason Marius has found the woman who now seemed to be his world, then so be it.

Eponine quickly ran through the streets of Paris, focusing on which street to turn at, though she could walk through Paris, knowing exactly where she was in her sleep. Her feet came to a sudden halt as she reached 55 Rue Plumet. She slowly walked to the gates making sure that she stayed in the shadows as a dainty, blonde figure scurried out the door and to the gate. The figure was wearing a dress that most people of her class would deem to be somewhat plain but as Eponine looked down at her own tattered dress she couldn't help but envy Cosette.

"Do you have the message from my beloved?" Cosette asked in a light, airy voice.

"Yes Mademoiselle," Eponine answered grimacing at her own raspy, dry voice, and quickly handed her the letter.

Cosette took the letter and tried to hand Eponine what seemed to be seven francs. Eponine stopped and stared at the hand with a disgusted look on her face that her messy dark hair hid. "I don't need your money nor your pity, _Mademoiselle_," she said lacing the former title with condescending bitterness.

Cosette's eyes grew wide as she swiftly put the money into her pocket mumbling, "Of course."

Eponine knew that Cosette was trying to help and that the money could save her from the hefty beating she knew she would receive when she returned home, but her pride would not allow her to accept money from the woman who stole Marius away from her.

"_He was never mine to lose,"_ her mind reasoned. She shook away the thought and turned to walk away. Nonetheless, she rarely took charity from anyone. She would get money her own way, which included pick-pocketing wealthy drunks who would not notice their pockets getting a few francs lighter. She took a detour to a street that was home to many wealthy men, and conveniently, had a bar located on the corner. As she rounded the corner she passed a group of drunken men huddled around a bar fight that had broken out. She skillfully slid her hand into one of the richer looking men's pockets and pulled out the francs without anyone noticing. She was a Thénardier after all, and they were cunning and stealthy, it seemed to run in their genes. She counted the francs and frowned instantly. She had only managed to get five. Though it may be enough to get out of a beating if she was lucky, luck was never on her side. It walked around her, gracing her neighbors and friends with its presence but never once stopped at her to give her a reassuring pat on the back.

She walked along the narrow passageways of the never-ending labyrinth that she had come to know so well. She took streets that were only known to those people who were raised to know how to hide and disappear. She walked among those who were wretched out of need, a victim of circumstance, and she walked among those who seemed to be good, hardworking, profitable men who would not hesitate to take the innocence of a girl who was forced out there from hunger. She walked without a fault in her step, living in her daydreams of Marius walking besides her, his hand draped protectively around her waist as they passed men leering at her with want and greed.

She was taken abruptly out of her daydreams by an arm grabbing her waist with the free hand wrap around her mouth as she was pulled into the shadows. She bit down instinctively on the hand around her mouth, as she attempted to scream through his hand. She was slammed against the wall and was trapped by the body pushed against her.

"Now, now, my littl' 'Ponine. It's good to see ya' haven' lost your fire. I truly hoped I didn' tire you out from the last time we met." A man with raven black hair and cold blue eyes said, licking his dry lips longingly. He slowly withdrew his hand from her mouth pushing her a bit harder against the wall, as if warning her that if she screams, she'll regret it.

"Let me go, 'Parnasse," she said with the same amount of warning in her voice, flashing him a deathly glare that would have a normal man shiver in fear, but Montparnasse was not a normal man.

He smiled at her, "Now why would I wan' to do that?" He asked as his hands started to snake along her body. "I'm gettin' tired of this cat an' mouse game we keep playin' 'Ponine. A man has his needs an' when they aren' met, a man starts gettin' desperate. An' you have not met my needs recently." He pushed himself closer to her.

"From what I have experienced, you aren't much of a man," she said defiantly and unafraid, glancing at the tight part of his pants.

He laughed a menacing laugh and grabbed her arms tight enough to leave bruises. "You little bitch!" He said with a terrifying grin spread across his face, knowing she had just given him reasoning to be extra rough with her, not that he needed a reason anyway, "Oh, I'll make you regret that." He loomed dangerously over her, his nails digging into her flesh causing it to break and bleed.

Being raised how she was, she was often put in situations like this. She had mapped out an escape plan the moment she was caught. She swiftly brought her knee up, hitting him with full force as he released her doubling over in pain. She jumped over him and ran as quickly as she could to her house not stopping once to look back.

She threw the door open and closed it, finally allowing her to release the breath she had just realized she had been holding.

"And where the hell do you think you were?!" She heard her father scream as she felt her hair being roughly pulled by him.

Her trembling hands fumbled in her pocket to retrieve the francs she managed to pickpocket and presented them to her father. He gruffly took them with his free hand, still keeping a hold of her hair as he counted them.

"Only five? Well, you're just going to have to make up for the difference tomorrow." He said referring to the scheme she had taken part of since men started finding her attractive.

She would stand on the street and wait until she spotted a drunken, rich man. She lured them with her charm into an alleyway, promising them they could have their way with her. Her father would then show up and knock him out, robbing him flat. Of course, her father would also use this scheme as punishment. Sometimes he would wait, or never show up at all. With Eponine being malnourished and physically smaller than many of the men, she only escaped half the time. When she couldn't escape, she would be left with ripped clothing and tears streaking down her face as her father would come, collect the money the men would leave her, and head back to the house.

It had not always been like this, the first time he didn't show up was an accident. He had been distracted by matters concerning his gang and their next robbing. When he finally showed up he found Eponine bloody and shaking violently. "Why did you not come?" She whispered barely audibly.

To that, he laughed and said, "Well I guess I can make money off you in more than one ways now. Get up, you look pathetic. There is work to be done." He then turned and walked away. She was thirteen. Sometimes she would try and fight her father, telling him she would not be a part of his schemes any longer. The attempts would leave her in worse shape than she would have been if she had gone.

She now, looked at her father with no fear cross her face, "It'll be my pleasure," she said with sarcasm weaved into her words.

To that, he backhanded her across the cheek leaving it swollen as he wiped away the drop of blood on the corner of her mouth. "Be thankful it wasn't any more than that. Get the hell up to your room."

She truly was thankful, she had become accustom to constant beatings, taking beats that were meant for her and taking beatings that were meant for her siblings. She made her way up to her room to be met by wide, worried, green eyes. "I heard Papa yell, are you okay?" asked Eponine's little sister, Azelma.

Eponine smiled and combed through Azelma's dirty blonde hair with her fingers, "Yes, it was just one hit. Nothing bad at all. Now, go to bed, 'Zelma, you need your sleep. I don't want you worrying about me every time I come home."

Azelma visibly relaxed and smiled as she settled into a deep sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**If you guys are going to review any chapter of mine, please review this one. I would LOVE to hear what you guys think!**

Chapter 4

Eponine walked into Café Musain the next day, consciously covering her bruises. The men were all invested in their conversations and debates, and the few that noticed her gave her large smiles and a quick bow before continuing their conversation. She looked through the crowd and her eyes fell onto Gavroche smiling widely at the drunken man. As Grantaire continued to slur, he would receive swift disapproving glares from the stoic man surrounded by papers and books next to him. Eponine smiled to herself at the sight and quickly made her way to the table.

She bowed her head politely to both Enjolras, who gave her a curt nod in return, letting his eyes linger on her for but a moment before turning back to his books, and Grantaire who smiled broadly at her, "Mademoiselle, it seems that we have gotten off on the wrong foot. Being graced with your beauty the other night seemed to take hold of my actions, for I seemed unable to control what I was saying, or where my hands seemed to be going." He laughed as his eyes scanned her body.

"You seem to be quite the charmer. I could only assume you have the ladies weak at the knees and falling to your feet. Or is that what you do?" She retorted with a devilish smile spread across her face as she glanced at his almost empty whiskey bottle.

"I like you," he declared, "You have got a bite to you. I can only hope you're the same in all areas of exchange."

"Grantaire, that is enough!" said Enjolras in a calm yet stern and threatening voice. Eponine laughed lightly.

"I only jest!" Grantaire said looking up at Eponine, "This one can take it. I believe we will come to be good friends," he said taking her hand and planting a light kiss on it. He took his last swig of whiskey, "Well I must get more of this! Eponine, I truly hope to make your acquaintance again." With that, he nodded to Enjolras and gave Gavroche an affectionate pat and left.

"I apologize for his actions, Mademoiselle," Enjolras said without looking up from his book to Eponine.

"I am no lady, so I cannot be tousled by words easily. Though his humor is a bit, invasive I think I can learn to enjoy it." She said earning a light glare from Enjolras, but she couldn't help but notice a very underlying look to his glare. He seemed almost impressed.

She quickly thought that she must be mistaken, because there was no possibility that the well-spoken leader of the rebellion could be impressed with a common street rat such as herself.

But of course, she had sold herself short for Enjolras was impressed. Not many women could make it through a conversation with Grantaire without getting extremely offended or preaching to him about the proper way to treat a lady. But, Eponine was not the same. She could not only take a joke, no matter how vulgar it might be, but also give it right back. And it was that, that impressed Enjolras. She was not your typical woman.

She turned to Gavroche and revealed a small piece of bread that was the size of her palm, "Look what I managed to swipe for you," she said with a large grin on her face as she watched his eyes light up.

Suddenly his eyes fell on the bruises that had sprouted on her arm. Instead of going for the bread, he gently pulled her arm out to examine it further. "This doesn't look like Father's work, it's too sloppily done." He stated in a factual manner. He looked up at her noticing the bruise on her cheekbone and pointed at it saying, "That does, though. If that was Father's handiwork, who got a hold of you here?"

Eponine sighed and said, "Montparnasse. I had a bit of a run-in with him while I was going home."

The way the siblings were discussing the abuse was so indifferent it shocked Enjolras who had paused his reading to listen. It was as if the two were talking about the weather outside and not mistreatment.

"He didn't…" Gavroche started.

Eponine glanced wide-eyed at Enjolras who pretended to be very invested in his book before she quickly cut him off saying, "Nah, got away before the bastard could think twice."

Gavroche let out a relieved sigh, "Good. They don't seem too rough. But, Joly is a medical student, he could check you over, if you'd like. I want to make sure you're okay."

Eponine quickly shook her head, but before she could refuse Gavroche was already calling Joly over.

The man quickly scurried over, "What do you need, Gav?"

Gavroche pointed to Eponine and said, "She's got some bruises if you wouldn't mind checking them out for her."

"Well not at all! Care to tell me what happened?" He asked gently taking her bruised and battered arms to look them over.

"I fell," she lied and she heard Gavroche scoff in response. Joly seemed to notice too, "But I really don't need this. I'm fine, I've survived much worse than bruises. I do not need your charity, Monsieur." She stated, ignoring Gavroche's scoff and getting genuinely annoyed her brother for making her seem like a charity case. She was a strong person, she did not need the help of the bourgeois men.

"It is not charity, Eponine," He said, remembering she asked him to call her that, "If anything it is a great help to me. I'm a training medical student, you see, and I need all the practice I can get!"

She eyed him for a moment before saying, "Very well."

After that day, it became a routine for her and Joly. She would come in with new injuries that ranged from moderate to worrisome. Joly would check her over asking her what happened. Eponine would lie and say that she fell, while Gavroche would tell Joly the truth when Eponine was out of earshot. Joly would give the same diagnosis every time he checked her over, "Not deadly, but it would do you well to get some rest and let yourself heal." To which Eponine would respond with a smile and a promise that she would, appearing the next day with new bruises.

The other men began to notice too. These injuries did no less than to make them worry about their insightful _gamine_ who had snuck her way into their hearts in the similar way her brother did. During the meetings, she was always there to provide witty and sarcastic remarks that would amuse the men. They became unafraid to tease and pester her for she was always willing to reciprocate the treatment. She had a personalized and caring relationship with every one of them; she had even managed to steal a few smiles from Enjolras on occasion.

Grantaire and she had an unspeakable bond where one could start a joke and the other would immediately catch on, playing off each other perfectly without much more than a single glance to verify that the game had begun. Joly had asserted himself in an almost fatherly figure in her life. He was constantly fretting over her well being and worrying about her every time she wasn't in his presence. Courfeyrac was always there to put a smile on her face by offering her kind words and gestures. He would listen to her, without judgment and would always offer her insightful advice. She would now show up without Marius to escort her and stay late.

One night, she had decided to go back the Café Musain after she had to leave quickly only just remembering her father needed her for his schemes. She walked in to find a passed out Grantaire, and Enjolras, who bent over his papers with what seemed to be a permanent scowl on his face. She walked over to Enjolras and stood over him gently picking up one of the papers to examine it. "It seems you never stop to sleep or eat, Monsieur," she stated as she sat down next to him.

He looked up at her then went back to his papers, "Not until my Patria is free, Mademoiselle."

"I am no Mademoiselle," she said smirking at their ongoing battle of titles.

"Then I am no Monsieur," he stated quickly returning her smirk, looking up at her then grimacing at the sight of a long cut that ran along her cheek.

She noticed, "You men look at me as if I have four heads and not some silly little bruises and cuts."

"Well, we men are not used to this treatment of women, and let alone someone's own daughter," he stated harshly feeling appalled by the living conditions Eponine was forced to endure every day.

"Well, that proves it," she said as if she was talking to herself.

Enjolras looked up from his book surprised, "Proves what?"

"That you do not know the people of the slums very well nor visit there very often," she said looking into his eyes, challenging him to disagree with her.

Though Eponine had become an active member of the Les Amis, he never got the chance to discuss her opinions on the revolution personally. He would hear her comments but he never seemed to be able to get her alone enough to really hear her full opinion. Every time he managed to find her, he would look away for a split second and she'd be gone. He had always compared her to the wind, rushing past you and filling you with sensation for the fleeting moment then was gone. And here they were, virtually alone and Enjolras could not help but take advantage of the moment. "I know that the children are starving, the men are out of work, the mothers and women are being forced to degrade themselves in order to survive. I know the government has turned a blind eye to the tragedy that is taking place on the streets every minute of every day. I know that the government does not care about these helpless people and they need someone to fight for not only their rights, but their lives as well!" he spoke looking up from his work and at her intently, "So tell me, _Mademoiselle_," he laced the title with an underlying tone of mockery, "What is it I do not understand?"

She seemed taken aback for a moment, then she looked into his deep, blue eyes that were partially hidden by his blonde curls as if the competition was truly speaking through their eyes and exclaimed, "You have forgot that not all of my people are victims. Yes, we are victims of circumstance but that does always not justify our actions! There are wicked people in the slums, Monsieur, more than not! You have forgotten that the children are starving from being abandoned by their parents and said protectors. You have forgotten that the men and husbands are out of work because they are too busy having affairs with prostitutes and drinking away all of the family's savings making the children starve! You have forgotten, Monsieur, that it is also the fathers and mothers that force their daughter to sell herself on the street when she doesn't make enough money from pick-pocketing! You have forgotten that if the child were to refuse selling herself she would get a beating leaving her on the brink of death. The government is not the only thing corrupted in this country, but humanity itself,"

For the first time she realized there were tears streaming down her face. She realized that she was not only talking about what she had observed in the slums, but also her own miserable life. Enjolras stared at Eponine wide-eyed with his eyes filled with sadness and pity, his mouth slightly ajar as he slowly reached and took her hand, as an attempt to comfort her.

She pulled her hand away, wiping her eyes and straightening her back, "The people will not rise."

Enjolras seemed to gain control of himself at that comment. He had returned himself to his distant and statuesque nature for his face hardened as he said, "I do not deny that the stories you tell are true. I have seen them myself. But, you deny and frankly, refuse to see the goodness in humanity. I have seen the tragedies brought on by not only the government, but the people themselves. I have also seen the good. I have seen mothers starve so that their children can eat. I have seen fathers work long hours so they are able to care for their family and put food on the table. Food that they, themselves do not touch. I have seen the poor pray for their fellow poor men, and not themselves. I have seen bourgeois children play with the children of slums in a pure, innocent, and genuine fashion, completely ignorant to the social constructs society has made. I do not deny there is evil in the world that lies outside of the confines of the government. I also, do not deny the good and the righteous. Are you suggesting that just because there is evil in the world, in this country, that there should not be someone to stand up for the population, because a part of it is corrupt? Are you suggesting that we let the good suffer because an evil may be lurking outside their door? Perhaps the older generation is bent beyond repair, but when I see those children of different classes getting along, treating each other as equals, I see hope. And I am one to fight for hope, Mademoiselle, not turn a blind eye to it. It saddens me that you cannot see it. That what has happened to you throughout your life has blinded you, because it truly is beautiful. I hope that not only I, but the entire Les Amis de l'ABC, can help you regain your sight."

After that, both just sat next to each other, inches away from one another, and just looked. Both unwilling and unable to speak another word, afraid to break the trance that had wrapped around the two bodies and both not quite knowing how to.

"'Ponine!" they heard as they jumped and moved apart looking at the door as a love-struck Marius ran in, "There you are! I have been searching for you everywhere. You must take me to Cosette."

Enjolras couldn't help but feel anger towards his friend. He had just told Eponine that he and the men would help her find her way out of this darkness that seemed to engulf her, choking out whatever light she tried to hold on to. And yet, there was Marius, slowly sprinkling more dread on her back, patiently waiting for it to break as if he was in a daze, completely unaware of his actions.

Eponine nodded and got up from her chair and followed Marius out the door. Just before she exited, she turned to meet the gaze that was resting on her back. In that moment, both realized they had developed an unfathomably large amount of respect for one another, shared by silence, for it was too complex to speak aloud.


	5. Chapter 5

**Short filler chapter, I apologize for this. I wanted to get something out for you guys. I've been a bit pre-occupied, so apparently this is the best I could come up with. I'll try to get the next chapter out by tomorrow just to make up for this one. I also apologize for any spelling and/or grammar errors. I didn't have a chance to edit this.**

Chapter 5

Marius had trudged ahead of her, making her have to jog to catch up. He kept his head down, only blessing her with hasty glances to make sure she was still there. Eponine's eye raked him, cherishing the moments they spent together before Cosette would consume Pontmercy's mind once more. She made sure she was in step with him so that she could get a clear look at his freckled face. Finally, he looked up at her, "I have rarely seen you recently, 'Ponine."

Eponine was surprised; she had seen him almost every day when they took their normal park route together, as they did every morning. Marius would be commenting on how beautiful the sun looked shining through the tree branches, dancing over the river, momentarily gracing the blue with the presence of fiery orange and reds. He would remark on how the yellow in the sun reminded him of Cosette's golden locks. Eponine would admire the way the sun danced of Marius's green eyes and the way he would turn to smile at her every time she agreed. The only difference she could see was she had attempted to stop following him around like a lost puppy constantly, as instructed by Courfeyrac. "Make the man miss you," he had said, "Make him notice your presence, or lack thereof." So, she stopped throwing herself at him; she started to not continuously stare at him, trying to re-memorize every detail of him from his full lips to the way his hair leans slightly to the left. She had started having conversations, and debates with men that were not Marius.

This would be thought of as normal behavior to any person, but Marius had become accustomed to Eponine's constant worship. The somewhat excess praise had become a normality to him, therefore when she started trying to remove herself from the role of helplessly and hopelessly dedicated to him, he felt as if she was slowly removing herself from his life.

"I see you in the mornings, though you rarely come to the meetings anymore. When you do, you're writing a letter to Cosette. Though, I would love to spend more time with you, if you aren't preoccupied with _your _Cosette," she couldn't help but sound desperate and bitter at the end.

"You offend me," he said with a small smile on his lips, "I have every intention to attend the meetings and every intention to spend time with you, even with my Cosette preoccupying some of my time. For example, we are spending time together now, are we not?"

She smiled, "Yes, I suppose we are."

"I just do not want to lose my most precious friend. Speaking of which, what were you and Enjolras talking about? It is difficult to get him to say the word woman let alone talk to one," he felt a bit irritated, Enjolras had never once spoke of anything but the revolution, and now he had run in on him just looking at Eponine, and her looking at him as well. Marius hoped that this was not a scheme Grantaire had thought up, for both of them may get hurt in the process.

In her mind, the odd and riveting conversation she had had with the Marble Man had suddenly shocked her. In all of his glorious speeches that she had the opportunity to witness, she had never once seen as much of Enjolras, and his cause, as she had tonight. She realized that she was fortunate enough to witness the marble crack, even for a second. She replayed the moment in her mind where she saw his flawless, angelic, and emotionless features contort with pity, sadness, anger, and respect. She replayed the action of him taking her hand. In that moment, she had thought pity had driven him to take her hand. She had pulled away out of spite, and anger, for she did not need, want, or accept his pity. But now, she was not so sure. She knew he pitied her, all of the Les Amis did, but there was something behind that pity he had allowed to come through. There was something he never intended to let her see, and yet it escaped the confines of his detached manner. It had reached the surface before being dragged back into the unexplored depths of his being.

"He wanted to get a poor person's perspective on the revolution," she stated blankly, knowing that what she and Enjolras had shared was so much more than that.

Marius smirked at the answer, seemingly satisfied. He took long strides to the gates of Cosette's house, as Eponine hid herself in the shadows. She could hear their confessions to each other.

"_Why regret what could not be?"_ she thought, as her eyes welled with tears.

Suddenly she was shaken out of her miserable trance by obnoxious voices, "It's this one right 'ere, yeah?" she recognized the voice of the burly, hairy man who was in her father's gang.

"Yes, that's the one," she shivered at her father's voice, "Who's this hussy we got over 'ere?"

She was suddenly grabbed by the arm and pulled out of the safety of the shadows by Montparnasse. He wrapped his arms around her to restrain her, as he menacingly and somewhat seductively ran his lips against her neck. "It's your brat, Eponine, don' you recognize your own kid?" Brujon said.

Her father motioned to Montparnasse to let her go, and as he reluctantly did, her father loomed dangerously over her. "Go home. We don't need you in this," he said.

She had to do something. She didn't want Marius to get hurt and with her father's gang around, they all were in danger. Marius may even think she was a part of it. He may never talk to her again, and he had just started noting her presence. "I know this house, I walk by it every day. There is nothing here that would please you," she said, silently praying to a God that had gone to sleep that her father would believe her.

"You've got some nerve, you better watch what you say," he warned her.

"Go home 'Ponine," she heard Montparnasse whisper to her quietly so the other men could not hear it. She turned to him and looked at the desperation that had flashed across his face and his cold eyes.

She looked back at her father, "I'm going to scream! I'll warn them!"

Her father grabbed her neck roughly and pulled her close to him as he said, "Scream and you'll regret it," in a lowing, terrifying voice.

She closed her eyes and let out an ear piercing scream. She felt a blow collide with her cheek as she fell to the ground. Multiple kicks rained down on her as she felt Thénardier grab fistful of her hair and yanked her head up so it faced him. His eyes looked crazed with anger, "Oh, I'll make you pay. If you want to scream, I'll make you scream." He released her and yelled at his men to disappear, as he quickly disappeared in the shadows.

She laid there, scared to move, but quickly flinched as she heard footsteps run near her and a touch to her shoulder. "My God, 'Ponine, what happened to you?" Marius said with such concern in his eyes she couldn't help but smile at.

"My father and his gang, I screamed to make them run off," she said through gasps of pain.

He smiled at her somewhat obvious and vague answer, "I could hear that," he joked, "Let me get you help."

She shook her head and stood up, clutching her side, "I'm fine. I actually must be off, Father will only get angrier the longer I wait to return."

"You must be joking," he said, "You cannot go back there."

"I have been dealt far worse," she turned to leave and looked back at him, allowing herself to re-memorize every detail of his face again, not sure whether she'd have to opportunity to see it again, as she said, "Au revoir, Marius."

"Goodnight 'Ponine," he answered, unwillingly turning away from her.


	6. Chapter 6

**I told you guys I would get a chapter out today! Review, please! Reading all of your reviews makes me so happy and keeps me motivated! Excuse any spelling/grammar errors, again. I'm terrible with that.  
**

Chapter 6

As Eponine took the slow walk home, she took in the city of Paris. She walked through the nooks and crannies that she had come to know so well. She listened and swayed to loud laughing and banging coming out of the crooked buildings as if it was music. She listened to the sound of hungry babies crying and the seductive whispers of hookers trying to catch their prey. She felt the coldness and dampness of the street soak through the worn down soles of her rugged, old boots. She looked down the dirty streets littered with drunken men, whores, and starving families. She looked at the leaning buildings that seemed to fall into each other. She looked up at the spotted sky with the moon shining through the clouds and she felt the odd sense that she was home. The streets seemed to bring her a comfort that her real home had never blessed her with. She sighed, she didn't want to leave it. She didn't want to leave this city that had always been cruel to her, but graced her with coy beauties. She suddenly realized what Enjolras had been trying to tell her before. She saw the beauty of the city for the first, and possibly last time in her life. She wanted to find him, and tell him he was right, there was beauty in this God forsaken city. She wanted to embrace him and thank him for being the one to plant the idea in her head. She wanted to apologize for noticing it too late.

Just as she was thinking that she passed Café Musain. She saw the flicker of the candle through the windows and doorway. She felt that she could almost see Enjolras in there, bent over his books that were sprawled around him. Pulling his blonde curls, clenching his broad jaw line. She became sad that she would most likely not be able to see what this great man would do for the city and the people. She became upset that she would not be able to assist his plight against the oppression of the government. She stopped for a moment, contemplating whether or not she should take a detour from her march to her extremely harsh and inevitable fate, to thank him, and let him know that she had finally seen the beauty of the city. She stood and listened, she could hear light chatting coming from the Café, she could only assume that the men had come back from their studies and whores to rejoin Enjolras. She shook her head and continued to walk home, he would not want to hear her epiphany, especially with the other men around.

After what seemed like hours of admiring the sights she had seen every day, she finally reached her destination. She looked up at the dingy inn and shivered when she heard loud, drunken yells coming from it, as she bravely stepped inside. Right as she got inside, her eyes widened when she saw Azelma sitting in the corner staring at her as if to say, "Why did you come back? Why did you not even attempt to disappear? Why are you going down without a fight?" Eponine's eyes locked with Azelma's wide green eyes. Azelma knew that there was no way Eponine could hide from her father and his gang, they would find her, but she always thought her sister would at least try to escape.

_"No,"_ Eponine thought, _"Not in front of 'Zelma."_ Even though Azelma grew up in the streets and in horrifying conditions, Azelma always had an innocent side to her that Eponine adored. Unlike Gavroche, Azelma didn't have to pretend to be innocent to make Eponine happy, she just was. Azelma would constantly stop and stare at expensive dresses displayed in store's windows, she would smile at strangers in the street, and ogle a sweets in bakeries. This will break her. Eponine had always taken Azelma's beatings for her, but she would always tell Azelma to leave the room. Eponine gazed at Azelma as if to say, "_Leave now_."

Suddenly Eponine was pulled roughly by her hair and punched across her face. Her knees shook, threatening to collapse, but she was held up by the firm grip on her hair. She was punched again, this time in her temple and she let out a scream, blood covering her mouth. She heard a loud scream ring throughout the building refusing to stop and in her daze, she realized it was not her screaming. She forced her eyes open, which proved difficult because she was starting to swell and saw Azelma standing in the corner screaming.

"Shut that little brat up!" she heard her father yell.

A man walked over and slapped Azelma across the face, "Don't you touch her!" Eponine yelled as Azelma continued to scream, "Azelma! Be quiet and go in the other room!"

After hearing her sister speak to her Azelma stopped yelling and quickly turned and ran into the other room. Right when Azelma left, Eponine was thrown to the ground as all the men attacked, punching her and kicking her, doing anything to land a blow on her. She heard cracks and could only assume it was her ribs, shoulders, and head. The flood of men slowly parted as she saw her father walked slowly up to her and reveal a rusty knife. He leaned down and whispered to her, "I said I would make you pay." As he ran his knife across her stomach causing blood to spill out of her. Once his work was done her father slowly stood up, and wiped her blood off his knife and turned and walked out of the room.

Her heart sank as adrenaline pumped through her. She knew what that meant. The men could have their way with her. Montparnasse was the first one to react. He was quickly on top of her and pushed against her, "This is what you get for not listenin' to me, you little slut. I wanted to help you, but of course, you don' listen to me. Oh, you'll get it." She pushed him off of her with all the strength she could muster and kneed him in the groin, causing him to fall off of her. She attempted to crawl away but soon she was swarmed by men.

Azelma was sitting in the fetal position in the next room over with her fingers in her ears and rocking back and forth, as she hummed the lullaby that her mother used to sing to her before they had lost all their money. The whisper could not cover the screams and bangs that were coming from the next room. Finally, after what she could only assume had been hours, she heard the men leave one by one. Azelma slid up from her corner and tip-toed lightly across the floor, using her Thénardier stealth and peered into the other room. She gasped at what she saw as she ran over to her sister who was laying on the floor in a puddle of blood. Her body was in an awkward angle that would not have been possible to be in without broken limbs.

"'Ponine?" she whispered lightly tapping her sister. There was no response, no stirring. "Don't worry, 'Ponine, I'll get you help. I'll get you help."

Azelma stood up and turned to run out of the dingy inn. She ran to the elephant statue that she knew Gavroche resided. "Gav!" she screamed. She didn't hear only movements.

_"Where is he?"_ She thought, _"Café Musain!"_ She remembered seeing her brother hang around the revolutionaries and constantly go to their meetings. She ran to the Café and burst through the door. All the chatter of the men stopped as their eyes fell upon the bloody, pale, and blantly terrified girl who couldn't have been more than two years older than Gavroche. Gavroche pushed through them hastily, "'Zelma?" he asked looking at her trying to get her attention. Joly took a slow step forward at the sight of the blood on her to show her that he would be willing to offer his assistance.

She looked at him, her wide eyes brimmed with tears, "It was Father. It's never been so bad. I think she's dead. She can't be dead. She promised. She promised us she wouldn't leave us. Help. She can't break her promise." With that Azelma had burst into hysterical sobs as Gavroche attempted to cover his up.

He turned to the men, "Please help."

Enjolras and Joly were the first to respond to the situation. Joly gently took the girl's hand asking if she was hurt as Enjolras commanded his men, taking control of the situation. Soon, Azelma and Gavroche were leading Enjolras, Joly, and surprisingly, Grantaire to the house. As they were running, Enjolras noticed the streets were getting dirtier and the wicked of the city seemed to be residing near their home. He also noticed that they seemed to shrink back in fear when Azelma ran past them. He never knew how much power the name Thénardier was in the slums. They came to a halt as Azelma turned to them, "Wait here, I must check that no one is awake."

The men anxiously awaited for what seemed like the longest minute of their life and all jumped and ran in when Azelma motioned the okay to them. They ran up into the room and their hearts dropped. They saw a bruised and battered, nearly dead Eponine before them. Joly ran to her and checked her pulse, "Still alive but barely, broken ribs, and a dislocated shoulder, some serious bruising. We must get her somewhere with better lighting so I can do a proper examination."

"My apartment," Enjolras said quickly, "It is right near your own so you can get the supplies you need, I have proper lighting and an extra room. Also, it is close by. I believe it would be the most beneficial place to care for her."

Joly nodded in agreement, "Enjolras, you pick her up, slowly. Careful not to move her too much, I don't want a rib puncturing her lungs."

Enjolras scooped her up, grimacing at how light she was, and made his way out the door.

He felt disgusted with himself, he had promised Eponine protection earlier that night and here she was on the brink of death. How was he supposed to start a revolution and promise to free and protect the people when he couldn't protect one citizen? He silently apologized to her for allowing this treatment to go on for so long. He prayed that she could live to hear the apology.

**After this, I promise there will be a lot of E/E. I just need to time it, they aren't going to fall in love instantly, but they are starting to care for one another in a platonic way. It will grow in the next couple of chapters! **


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Joly led the way to Enjolras' apartment, with Enjolras right behind him. He ran up the stairs, "Joly, go retrieve your medical supplies. Grantaire open the door for me." Right when Grantaire somehow managed to unlock Enjolras' door with shaking hands, Enjolras ran in and placed Eponine on the spare bed, her blood automatically staining the white sheets crimson. "We have to stop the blood," Enjolras mumbled to himself, running his blood stained hands through his hair and tugging his curls.

Joly came into the room and briefly took in the scene. The lighting was much better than what it was at the inn, Grantaire seemed terrified. He was pale, sweaty, and seemed like he could break into sobs at any moment. The children were worse, Azelma was sitting on the armchair in the corner rocking back and forth, letting out wails of fear and sorrow. Gavroche was standing by the bed, staring at Eponine, as if he was in a trance, with tears streaming down his face. Enjolras seemed to be the only one who could manage to assist him, for he was gathering up towels and putting pressure on her head wound. "I need all of them out," Joly said quietly to Enjolras.

Enjolras looked up and nodded, "Grantaire, take Gavroche and Mademoiselle Azelma into the other room. I want you to get their mind off of this; you may be the only one who could manage that. Also, get them bread. Lord knows how long it has been since they have had food in their stomach."

Grantaire looked at Enjolras and Joly, his gaze lingering on them as if to say, _"Don't you dare let her die."_

He awkwardly clapped his hands and said, "Come on, children, we have to give them room to work," and herded the weeping children out the door.

Right as the door closed, Joly went to work, "Get me water and a rag, while I strip her to get a better look at the damage," he said, taking out a knife and swift cutting off her dress. Enjolras quickly turned and filled up the bucket with water.

When he walked back through the door, he was stopped dead in his tracks. He let out a sharp gasp at the sight of Eponine's exposed, disfigured, and brutally abused body. He felt rage boil inside of him, a rage that he had never known before. How dare they do this to a lady? How dare they treat a fellow citizen this way? How dare he let this happen? "My God…" he whispered.

"I agree," Joly responded quickly, "Come, bring the water here and start cleaning the blood off of her, quickly. I need to stitch up this stomach wound. It seems to be the source of the most blood loss."

Enjolras reacted swiftly, and ran the rag up her arms, across her face and chest, and finally came to the atrocious cut on her stomach. It was deep and spewing blood. It ran from her lower left hip to just under the right side of her rib cage. He gently applied pressure to the wound and cleaned around it with the already dyed rag. Joly pushed him gently away and started to sew her cut shut.

"There is one more thing," Joly said.

"What is it?" Enjolras asked.

Joly shifted uncomfortably, "She shows signs of being raped, multiple times and quite viciously, at that."

Enjolras stopped with his mouth hanging slightly ajar as he looked at the broken Eponine. "Do not reveal this information to her siblings, it will only upset them."

Joly nodded slowly before continuing his work. They popped her shoulder back into place, stitched up wounds, bandaged cuts, and stabilized broken bones all night. By the end they were drenched in Eponine's blood and exhausted. "Three broken and two cracked ribs, nasty and deep cuts on both her stomach and her head, a dislocated shoulder, three broken fingers, countless cuts and bruises, and a terrifying amount of blood loss, and yet, she will most likely live," Joly turned to Enjolras, "Am I an extraordinarily good and well-educated medical student or is Eponine just an extremely strong person?"

"Both of the choices are true," Enjolras placed his hand on Joly's shoulder, "Go home and get some rest, I will be here to watch over her. You deserve a break after the miracle you pulled off."

After Enjolras escorted Joly out, he lifted up the two sleeping children and placed them in his bed. Grantaire was asleep on the couch, snuggling with a flask of whiskey. Enjolras went back into the room Eponine was in and settled in the armchair in the corner and fell into a deep sleep.

Eponine's eyes opened and squinted at the light coming through the window. Everything was blurry. She turned her head to face away from the light and hit the pillow. Her eyebrows knit in confusion. _"A pillow?"_ She thought. That was odd. She had not had a pillow since they had lost the inn. Her hand ran across the sheets. Where was she? This certainly was not the type of environment she was used to. There was no bottles breaking, no drunken yells, no cackling women. It made her alert; she needed to leave this unknown and unfamiliar place.

"Ah, the Mademoiselle is awake at last," she hears as she turns to see what looked like an angel to her maladjusted eyes. The bright light reflected off his slightly tanned skin, it danced around his broad jaw that was littered with unkempt scruff that made the figure more appealing, it shined through his blonde curls. "Grantaire," he called, "fetch Joly and tell him Eponine has awoken."

Her eyes widened, "Monsieur Enjolras? What are you doing here? Where am I? How did I come to be here?" She tried to sit up, but pain blasted through her body like an explosion.

She let out a cry, as Enjolras gently pushed her back onto the bed, "Do not move, Mademoiselle, for it may cause you further injuries. Just stay still. I will answer your questions," he said in a surprisingly gentle voice, almost coaxing her back into bed.

She hesitantly obliged, "How did I come to be here?" She repeated.

"Your sister, Azelma, found us after you were beaten by your father. You were on the brink of death when we finally got to you. We brought you to my apartment because I had an extra room to spare and Joly managed to fix you up. You gave them quite the scare, Mademoiselle," Enjolras noticed he said them as opposed to us. He found that perplexing, was he not scared? He certainly was. Then how come he was almost afraid to let her know that he too, was scared that he would not be able to have more conversations with Eponine as he had two nights before.

Eponine let out a small sob as the memories of that night came rushing to her like a broken dam released water. She was terrified at the thought of ever having to go back to her "home", but she was more terrified at the thought of what would happen if she didn't go back, "Where are Azelma and Gavroche?" She asked in a small voice that made her fear evident.

Enjolras seemed to just think it was caused by what had happened to her and not the upcoming dangers she would be forced to face if she did not tread carefully. "They have been staying with me since the night we brought you here. They seemed too worried to leave you," he noticed the worried look on Eponine's face and quickly continued, "Do not worry, they were well fed and bathed. I even got them some new clothing, nothing spectacular, but it will suffice. They seem to already be gaining weight."

The look did not leave Eponine's face. Although she was thrilled that her siblings were in such good care, she couldn't move past the horror that had risen in her. _"Azelma is not there, either. Father must be furious, he would have to be losing money by the day," _she thought.

She closed her eyes and attempted to take deep breaths but was greeted by the pain that refused to subside. "How long?" She asked.

"Excuse me?" Enjolras responded surprised.

"How long have we been under your care?" She repeated slowly.

He looked at her, "Five days."

"_Five__ days?!" _She thought. She had to leave as soon as possible.

The door to the room opened as Azelma, Grantaire, Joly, and Gavroche flooded in.

"'Ponine! Thank goodness you are alright!" Azelma said with tears in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

"We have been so worried!" Gavroche said.

"All of us," Grantaire said softly, standing in the corner of the room giving her a weak smile, "Don't you dare do that to us again, Thénardier."

Joly hastily moved forward, "Alright everyone, let the woman breath, I need to check her vitals." He scanned her body, asking her if there was anything bleeding, how she felt, along with many other questions. He looked over his stitches and deemed that for now, she was okay, but needed to stay in bed and do minimal amount of walking as possible.

"Unfortunately, that won't be possible," she said attempting to get up, "Azelma we are going."

"What?" Azelma asked incredulously.

"Gather your belongings or whatever belongings Monsieur Enjolras has been so kind to buy you," she continued.

"Eponine that is a bad idea, you still need to heal," Joly said worriedly, looking around for help. Everyone seemed to be in shock at her statement.

"I do thank you all for your help, and especially you, Monsieur Enjolras, for you hospitality. I apologize for any inconvenience I have burdened you with, but we will be off," she glared at Azelma the way her mother always did to them, "Now, Azelma!"

"You will do no such thing!" Enjolras said fiercely. He turned to the room, "Leave us," he commanded. The room quickly emptied, leaving the two alone.

"Monsieur Enjolras, I appreciate your concern, but you really do not have any idea what you are getting yourself into. It is safer for all of us if 'Zelma and I leave."

"Safer?" Enjolras exclaimed, laughing at the statement, "You would have died at the hands of those men had it not been for us. Do you really believe it is safer back there? No, I refuse to let you leave my apartment before you are healed. I won't allow it."

"Won't allow it?" She yelled, "It is not your decision. If I do not go back they will find me. They will beat me worse than they did before, they will beat Azelma, and they will kill you. I refuse to have your life on my shoulders."

She turned to the door and yelled, "Azelma, come in here!"

Azelma scurried inside. "We are going," Eponine said more gently this time, "You know Father will find us if we do not go to him first. The only way he would let us go is if he was being paid for it."

"I will pay," Enjolras stated.

"You will not," Eponine retorted.

"I will do as I please, Mademoiselle, and I will pay for your safety," He said with finality.

"I do not want your charity, you will not pay," she answered.

"Stop!" Azelma exclaimed, "Eponine, you must stay here until you are healed. Monsieur Enjolras, Eponine is right, we cannot accept your money. I will pick-pocket more money than usual and claim a man found you on the streets and bought you for the time being."

"He will not believe that," Eponine said, debating the plan in her mind.

"I am well aware," Azelma said, acting much older and more mature than her age, "But, as long as he is getting money he will not care about the story." Upon seeing her sister's hesitation Azelma fell to her knees at the side of the bed, "Please, 'Ponine. I need you to be alright."

Eponine closed her eyes and nodded, "Take Gavroche with you to help you gather the money. Remember, aim for drunk, rich, and skinny men. Stay in crowds. Be safe."

Azelma nodded and called the men in and relayed the plan to them. Soon after, Gavroche and Azelma left the apartment.

"Follow them," Eponine said looking up at the men, "Azelma is out of practice and though I think she will be okay, I do not want a drunken, rich man trying to take advantage of her. They would be offended if they knew I sent you to watch over them, so stay hidden."

"I will go," Grantaire said, sounding quite sober for him, "Joly has classes and you need to be looked after. Plus, I blend in much more easily than Enjolras would."

Eponine nodded, "Stay with them in the upper class parts, which is the most dangerous for them. Stay away from the slums, our name protects us there. The people of the slums have learned to not bother a Thénardier if they value their lives. The rich are not as aware of that fact."

Joly turned away uncomfortably at Eponine's sudden intimidation. Grantaire quickly excused himself and Joly jumped at the opportunity to leave.

Once they left, Eponine looked up at Enjolras, "I have been meaning to tell you something," she began.

He looked at her, intrigued, "What is that, Mademoiselle?"

"I saw it," she said, almost talking to herself, "I saw the beauty of this city during what I thought were my last moments in it."

Enjolras shyly smiled at her, "I am glad to hear that."

She stared at him, he felt as though her eyes were penetrating him, seeing right through his every flaw, his being. "But there is something I still do not think you understand. I now see there is hope, but without realizing and facing this truth, you and your men will surely die during the uprising," she said bluntly.

Eponine was used to death, it happened all around her every day, she had even flirted with it on several occasions, but Enjolras did not have that exposure. He hardened at the word and turned towards the door, "You need to rest, I will leave you for now."

"But there is something I must tell you!" Eponine said annoyed that he was unwilling to listen to ideas other than his own.

"Rest Eponine!" he exclaimed more harshly than he had intended, "Please," he said softly.

Eponine's eyes followed him until he had left the room. "Oh, you poor damned souls," she said under her breath.

**WOW! Three chapters in three days. That's crazy, I think I'm just like on a writing streak. This probably won't last long. Anyway, I'm going to use the next chapters to show her relationship with each of the men and build off of it. Review! Please! Scrutinize this, criticize it, write a ten paged review on it, all is welcomed and appreciated! I want to thank everyone who has reviewed so far! You guys rock \m/**


	8. Chapter 8

**I apologize for not being able to update for awhile! I wasn't really having any inspiration come to me for awhile and I've been bombarded with schoolwork and exhaustion. I'll try to update more often, I promise! Don't forget to read and review!**

**Oh and in this chapter, Eponine has been asleep for around a week. I didn't really think the length of it through, but it'll be around there.**

Chapter 8

The conversation proved to be extremely extraneous to Eponine in her condition, for as Enjolras shut the door, a bit too hard for her liking; she let her frantic thoughts wash away from her mind as her eyes fluttered as she begrudgingly fell into a deep sleep. The mattress, sheets, and pillows coaxed her into a sleep she had never known before. At the inn, she could never seem to be able to allow herself to be enticed by the luxury of a heavy, dreamless sleep. She always had to be aware of her surroundings, quick and agile, so she could react quickly if a man, drunken or not(she had experienced both), were to find his way to her room and her bed with sickening intentions. In the presence of the men, and feeling the safest she had in most of her pitiful excuse for an existence, her well worn body seemed to succumb to the temptation of safety and comfort. It shut down, finally allowing her a dreamless and peaceful sleep.

"I must be off to class, Joly has checked over her vitals and she seems to be doing well, just exhausted. Please check on her every half hour."

"I know, 'Jolras! Lord knows I have been doing this everyday! It would do you well to trust me a bit."

The voices seemed to echo in the back of Eponine's mind, like a distant memory trying to break through her body's shut down.

"It will do me nothing but harm, I know from experience. I am placing my trust with you for this job, am I not?" Even in her slumber, the irritation in the voice was coming through.

"This is hardly trust, she does nothing that would cause alarm or require my services, and therefore trust is not a large requirement. One would think she be dead if it were not for the slight rise and fall of her chest," Grantaire stated.

Enjolras stiffened, "I will be back in exactly three hours. I expect you to be here and Eponine be seen to."

With that Enjolras turned and went out the door. "The bloody pride of that man," Grantaire mumbled in a melancholy sort of way.

Eponine groaned, for the men's strong and somewhat obnoxious voices seemed to shake her out of her blissful trance.

"Well, I'll be damned," Grantaire said turning to Eponine, "Seems our slum princess has finally decided to grace her servants with her charming and obviously cheery presence."

Eponine's reluctant scowl that was still on her face from waking up deepened as she looked at the man talk, swinging his bottle of wine around with large hand motions he used to portray what he was saying. "It's not as if I got up and left. I have been here the whole time, _gracing _you with my presence," she retorted.

"You were unconscious, there has hardly been a presence here," he stated, "You have been asleep for days; your body seems to have shut down in order to heal itself from the damage it has taken over the course of your life."

She nodded, scanning the room for others, listening for young voices in the other rooms. There was none. "Where are Azelma and Gavroche?" she asked nervously, hoping that the drunk would give some indication on how her father took her absence.

Grantaire smiled, "Don't you worry, your father accepted the story, as well as the money. Both Azelma and Gavroche are safe, all of the men have been doing their part to help the children," Eponine noticed that Grantaire did not reveal many details on how the men were helping and she couldn't help but grow suspicious, "The men have seemed to take a liking to Azelma. They protect her as best they can. The way you lot make these revolutionaries' fragile hearts melt seems to run in your family. I must admit that even my cold heart softens for Gavroche and yourself, and apparently now, Azelma. She is an exquisite little lady. I'm offended you did not bring her to the meetings before she came running to us to save your life."

Eponine flinched slightly at the memory. Grantaire's blunt manner had always been a trait of his. He seemed to be hardened to many gruesome circumstances, though she did not know why. "Azelma has always been somewhat intimidated by the Les Amis. I would not want to put her in yet another situation she was uncomfortable with," Eponine said plainly, shrugging as if it was a mystery to her how her innocent yet strong sister could be intimidated by the students.

Grantaire's mouth gaped with shock, "Of me?" he said throwing his hands up in mock offense, "Well with my stunning good looks and devilish charm I can see why," he mumbled joking to himself.

Eponine rolled her eyes, "I'm going to ignore that comment," she said than sighed, "No, and honestly I think she was mostly intimidated by Enjolras."

"Well that is reasonable," Grantaire said scratching his head and sitting at the edge of her bed, "Everyone is, he is quite terrifying. Captivating, but terrifying nonetheless."

"Yes, mostly everyone is," Eponine said, trying to point out that she was not, and would not be intimidated by the student, "He would do well if he used that to his advantage in this revolution of his."

Grantaire wore a questioning look on his face, but decide to ask Eponine to further explain her point, "Ah yes, how could I forget?" He said staring into her dark orbs, "Eponine, Princess of the Slums, who fears nothing and no one."

Eponine scoffed, "I did not say that, I fear many things. But, those things are far worse than Enjolras. I have be in the presence of much worse than the idealist," she said staring at the wall. The images haunted her mind, she shook them away and looked at Grantaire with a smile on her face and she scrunched her nose at him, "I know he is just as fluffy as his hair on the inside."

Grantaire let out a bellowing laugh, "It is quite fluffy, is it not?"

"More than a maiden's!" she exclaimed, "I could only wish my hair would be that soft and voluptuous one day," she said with a fake pout on her face.

Both of them burst out into a fit of laughter at the outlandish comparison. Grantaire looked at Eponine admiringly, "I am glad you have made it out of that atrocity alive."

Eponine rolled her eyes and let out a small laugh, "Oh how kind of you," she said in a mock bashful tone.

"You watch it there, Miss!" Grantaire jested, "That means a great deal coming from me. I have seemed to become immune to feelings or concerns over the years, be it from the alcohol or my bastard of a father, I genuinely attempted to stop caring, and succeeded a great deal. But, when I saw you half dead on the floor, something changed. I cared and worried about you. You are one of the only people who can see the world for what it really is, just as I can. I would greatly miss having someone see from my perspective," he said looking at her, completely losing his smug grin.

Eponine offered a small smile, "Yes well, Enjolras seems to have made it his duty to change my view. Apparently I have to believe in something that is not a doe-eyed man obsessed with a rich blonde." Eponine frowned remembering Marius, and his lack of love for her. _"I wonder if he visited me,"_ she thought.

Grantaire looked at her, but he wasn't looking at her. She felt that he was looking through her, the drunk seemed to see all of her flaws, insecurities, hopes, and dreams. She shifted slightly, ignoring the pain that shot throughout her body.

"You be careful of that. He will succeed," he said.

She looked at him confused, "Did he succeed with you? Are you telling me Grantaire, the cynical drunken skeptic, believes in the cause?"

He smirked sadly, "Not the cause, exactly."

She looked at him, searching his face, trying to grasp what he meant, "Enjolras," she said, it was not a question.

He looked at her, "Everyone who has heard Enjolras speak believes in him, deny it all you'd like but you will have to face the truth eventually. The longer you deny it, the stronger it will get."

She looked at him with pity but defiantly said, "I believe in Marius. I am in love with Marius."

He scoffed loudly, breaking his serious demeanor, "Well, no bloody shit!" he laughed, "Everyone with a pulse can see that. You follow him around all day, having vivid sexual fantasies about him. It's disgusting!"

She sighed loudly and rolled her eyes, "And here I thought you could abstain from making any lewd comment for one conversation."

"Your mind's the one with the fantasies," he defended, "Not my own."

"You're despicable," she said.

"No," he said, "I'm very realistic about the world and everything it contains, making your desires easy for me to pick up, which leads me to want to drink them, along with many other things, away." He stood up frowning at his now empty wine bottle, "Speaking of which, I must go fetch another drink."

"You're not as heartless as you think you are," she said bravely.

He turned to her surprised, "Oh? Am I not? Than pray tell what my weak heart breaks for?" He inquired.

"Enjolras," she said, "It would break if he were to fall during battle. You would cry."

He sighed and turned to her, "The world would cry if Enjolras died, for its protector would have abandoned it."

"Would it not be the world that slays its protector?" She asked.

He shook his head, "One can act then regret it, and even weep about it. It will happen to the Les Amis when the barricade finally rises. You know these men, do you truly believe they relish in the fact that they will have to take away another human being's life? They are going to be taking the lives of fathers, brothers, and sons. No," he said running his fingers along the bottle, "Those that survive will not only weep for their fallen brothers, but also the men that have fallen at their hand," he looked at Eponine's shocked face, "I'll get you bread." With that he turned and left the room.

Eponine was left staring at the door. She covered her face that was littered with healing bruises and now thinning cuts with her thin and shaking hands. Her mind was plagued with images of the possible deaths that will come from the revolution.

_Marius._

_Grantaire._

_Courfeyrac._

_Joly._

_Combeferre._

_Bahorel._

_Feuilly._

_Jehan Prouvaire._

_Legles._

_Gavroche._

_Enjolras._

She even shook for those on the opposing side. The selfish and scared people of France must rise, and Eponine had some tactics that could force the people to do just that.

"_I have to talk to Enjolras,"_ She had that thought cross her mind often now, but no other time called for this much urgency.


	9. Chapter 9

**Again, I apologize for the late update. This chapter is basically a way to set up for the building of Enjolras and Epoinine's relationship that will come in the following chapters (including 10)! So review for a sneak peek of the next chapter!**

Chapter 9

Eponine huffed with frustration as she waited, yet again, for one of the men to answer her resentful cries for assistance. She could practically her pride dripping out of her as another desperate cry was falling from her lips. She had never despised herself or the state she was in more than she did in that moment. Not even the few and far between realizations that Marius will most likely never love her that somehow managed to occasionally break the surface of her mind that seemed to constantly attempt to push those realizations deep within her subconscious, was anything compared to the pure unadulterated self-loathing she was feeling. She felt vulnerable. Before she was locked in this cage like a bird with clipped wings, she had always been able to do something, even if she lacked control over others or the situation itself. She knew she had control over herself, her emotions, and could act them out freely. She could cry without having to quickly hide the tears from her siblings before they called in the men who would question her with worry shaking in their voices. She could scream and be thought of as just another miserable street rat and not have Joly force feeding her medications for the pain that, contrary to his belief, was not physical, but emotional. She could run and act as though she was fleeing from this wretched and deceivingly beautiful city never to return. Now, she could barely walk without requiring assistance. She felt weak, and that was an unexplored feeling for Eponine. One that she had no desire to discover.

Taking one last annoyed breath, she slowly pushed herself up, wincing slightly at the pain, and stood up from her enticingly comfortable bed. She had to do this. She could not be weak. She could not depend on those bourgeois boys who were sprinting blindly to their deaths. She knew more than they. She knew how to survive. She stood, looking at the ground with concentration and fear. She tentatively raised her now scrubbed clean foot (Which was thanks to the baths Enjolras insisted her on having) and took her first independent step. She let out a sigh of relief and continued slowly and cautiously to the bathroom.

She took a shaky step into the bathroom, slipping slightly on the thin layer of water that hugged the floors making a sharp pain shoot from her foot up through her leg. She let out a scream of pain and fell to the ground, unbinding the stitches that held her healing wound together, releasing a crimson liquid. She hit the floor with her fist, cursing herself for her stupidity and reluctantly screamed for help, and screamed for Enjolras. She surprised herself that Enjolras was the first name her mind went to when she was in need of help. But, he did seem like the most logical choice, Grantaire could barely hold himself up half the time, let alone herself, she would never put her siblings in that type of stressful situation, the sad, scared look that would be plastered on Courfeyrac's face would break her heart, Joly seemed logical enough, and yet, her mind made her call out for Enjolras for some reason. It puzzled her.

The puzzlement vanished as quickly as it had come, for it had been replaced with disappointed, despair, and rage she felt for herself, all trying to overcompensate for the untainted weakness that had now settled over her. "ENJOLRAS!" She screamed. There was no response, "ENJOLRAS! For God's sake, Enjolras, get your head out of those damned books! I am not one of those sniveling, idiotic women you normally tune out!" Her eyes filled with frustrated tears, "Stop pleasuring yourself into a bloody red and black flag, you masochistic revolutionary!" She felt all of the hatred she had for herself was being projected onto Enjolras, but she was too infuriated to care about how preposterous she was acting.

Enjolras quickly ran in the bathroom looking a bit out of sorts. His curly locks looked disheveled from his constant aggravated pulling of them and he had dark circles under his darting eyes, "My God," he sighed, "Why must I always find you injured? It seems you cannot be left alone for one bloody minute without finding a way to injure yourself further than you already have. And yet, you call me a masochist."

He knelt down and took a towel, putting pressure on the wound. He rolled his clearly irritated eyes at her and looked around hurriedly, "Damn it! How am I supposed to fetch Joly when I cannot trust you with yourself alone?"

Eponine stared at him, she had never seen him so flustered and annoyed. He had seemed almost worried as he busted through the door, perhaps even a bit afraid. It was odd and out of place, and he clearly thought so too as he quickly replaced them with annoyance. He always seemed to maintain his composure, rarely releasing any of his emotions for the public to see. Everything was always calculated with him, she noticed that as she continued to live and heal in his home he would have light conversations with her, enough to make her feel comfortable about her constant presence in his home, but distant enough to never break past the point of "friendly acquaintances". She had only seen his put his guard down once before, and that was when he took her hand in a moment of pure emotion during the conversation they had shared before the attack.

"I can take care of myself," Eponine said defensively.

Enjolras let out a light, sarcastic laugh, "Obviously not! Every time you were not in the presence of one of the Les Amis you seem to get injured!" He looked at her seriously, "I used to think of you as a victim of circumstance, that trouble seemed to seek you out and you could not control it, now I realize, the main person you need protection from is yourself. You seek out ways to get yourself hurt as some sort of self-punishment and you leave everyone else to clean up the mess," he sighed, looking at the blood that now stained his floor and towel, "And what a mess it is," he said quietly.

She glared at him, "You are sorely mistaken, Monsieur! If I caused myself as much harm as you claim I do, I would not be alive today! I have survived this long because of myself. The only reason I attempted to walk is because when I am back on the streets, I am going to need all my strength and independence back if I intend on surviving."

He looked deep into her dark eyes and said, "You would not be alive right now without Joly, Grantaire, Azelma, Gavroche, and me. It is time you start appreciating that and stop carelessly throwing around the work we did to keep you here today."

Eponine was at a loss for words, so choose instead, to continue to silently glare at him.

"Now, can I trust you will stay where you are while I retrieve Grantaire?" he asked.

She continued her glare and slowly nodded. He wordlessly got up and left.

"You seemed to have just pulled the stitches, but nothing too major. Please, be more careful Eponine," Joly said shaking his head lightly.

"I was calling for someone to help me walk to the bathroom, but you men never seem to hear me. Excuse me for attempting to spare my bladder from a tortuous wait," she defended.

"If that is the case, it seems you cannot be alone until you are healed. That will give you no excuse to wander off injuring yourself further, for assistance will always be around you. It will be beneficial as it seems Mademoiselle Eponine cannot be trusted alone," Enjolras stated.

"That is absolutely ridiculous and I will not have it!" yelled Eponine.

"It is not debatable, you will always have someone in close proximity to you until you are healed," he said taking an intimidating step closer to her. She met his glare with defiant eyes.

"Unfortunately, Eponine that seems like the safe option" Joly said gently to her shrinking back slightly from her gaze, "Only until you can walk unassisted again."

"Then it is settled," Enjolras said, hoisting Eponine up gently into a standing position and walking her into the guest room, grabbing some of his books and papers on the way.

He laid her back on her bed and sat at the desk, emerging himself in his book, she rolled her eyes and turned so her back was facing him. This was going to be a long healing process.

**Thank you to judybear236 for the Eponine falling in the bathroom idea!**


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